After a few hours had gone by, the Ministry must have said 'to hell with Muggle security.' Salesmen were Apparating everywhere and Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I had decided to look around at the merchandise.
We returned to the tents an hour or so later with our souvenirs, including one Krum figurine (Ron's), four pairs of Omnioculars (courtesy of Harry), four programs (from Hermione), and a shit ton of green rosettes in support of Ireland (and fear of Mrs. Finnegan) from me. Fred and George thanked me profusely for the rosettes.
"Why don't you come be our sister instead?" said Fred slyly.
"I heard that!" Ginny said sharply, fastening her own rosette to her shirt.
"You didn't buy us any souvenirs." George said pointedly.
We relaxed again for a few minutes until suddenly, there was a deep, loud gong sounding from somewhere in the distance. In the dusk, red and green lanterns lit a path through the trees and the campground began to stir with anticipation.
"It's time!" Mr. Weasley hopped up excitedly. "Come on, let's go!"
Mr. Weasley lead us down the lanterned path. It was like going to a very crowded concert for a world-renowned band. There were thousands of people shouting and laughing and singing with excitement. I found the atmosphere rather infectious, and we talked loudly and joked around until we finally reached the end of the path. I took in the sight before me with amazement.
"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it." There were multiple entrances into the stadium, and Mr. Weasley lead us towards the nearest one.
"Prime seats! Top Box!" said the Minsitry witch who checked our tickets. "Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go!"
There was a deep purple carpet over the stairs of the stadium, and I looked around, awestruck, at the pure amount of seats. Looking at the field itself, I saw the hoops had to be at least fifty feet high.
There were already plenty of people inside the Top Box, but of course the first person I locked eyes with was Lucius Malfoy. Draco was caged in between him and his mother, jaw set and eyes fixed pointedly ahead. Both of Draco's parents looked like they were rather peeved by our presence, and were looking at me with disdain. Instead of glaring back, like I wanted to, I bared my teeth in a smile before turning around. I turned slow enough so I could see that the pair looked properly taken aback, and Draco was biting his cheek trying not to smile himself.
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, had stood and was welcoming us in. The last time I'd seen Fudge was last year, after helping an escaped convict evade capture once more. I still thought it was hilarious that Draco had Confunded him. Other Ministry officials sat around chatting amongst themselves. Ludo Bagman was seated in the front row next to a house elf that had their eyes squeezed shut.
"It's almost time," said Ludo Bagman excitedly, checking his watch.
I took my seat beside Hermione, who had just sat down beside Ginny. I leaned in close to Hermione to whisper. "Whose elf is that?"
"I'm not sure," she frowned, looking deeply upset.
"Dobby?" Harry asked, sitting on its other side. The house elf looked up at him — definitely not Dobby. "Er, sorry."
"But I knows, Dobby too, sir!" The house elf explained. "My name is Winky! And you sir — you is surely Harry Potter!"
"I am," Harry agreed. "How is Dobby, then?"
"Dobby talks of you all the time, sir, but you have not done a good thing for Dobby," Winky looked scornful — an impressive feat for a house elf. "Dobby can't find anywhere to work, see."
"What? Why not?" Harry frowned. "What's wrong with him?"
"Freedom is getting to his head, Harry Potter, sir," Winky told him sagely. "He is wanting paying for his work!"
Harry frowned, befuddled. "Shouldn't he?"
"Oh, no," Winky moaned. "House elves is not paid, sir. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks. I says to Dobby, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby, but he does not listen." She shook her little head. "I am good elf. I is not liking heights at all, sir, but master sends me to Top Box and I come, sir."
"Who is your master?" Hermione asked, looking quite furious. "Why would he ask you to come here?"
"Winky's master is Mister Barty Crouch, miss!" Winky told her excitably. "He says to save him a seat, so Winky stays and sits, because she is a good house elf."
Hermione looked ready to argue, but Ron nudged her. "Don't bother. I've heard they're all like this. Well, except Dobby."
"Yeah," Harry grimaced. "Dobby was weirder."
We focused back on the match, though Hermione kept looking at Winky from beside me. I was watching the advertisements go by, and was pleased to see a familiar face.
"There's Angela!" I exclaimed, pointing at her face next to Angela's Fabulous Faces: Want the face of your dreams? We'll make it fabulous!
"That's Angela?" Ron gawked, and he wasn't the only one. The twins also looked mildly stunned as they looked at her.
"Jeez, Lila. You didn't mention your dad's girlfriend was an angel," Fred said. I rolled my eyes at him.
"Oh please, it's in her name. And besides, she's way too old for you."
"Everyone ready?" Ludo Bagman suddenly stood, shining with excitement. "Minister?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge. Ludo nodded and pulled his wand from his pocket to direct it as his throat. He muttered "Sonorus," and began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome!" His voice boomed like a speaker over the entire stadium and the crowd fell silent. "Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The spectators in the crowd began to cheer and clap. Thousands of flags rose from the crowd and waved about while national anthems were screamed over each other. The advertisement board in front of us cleared and changed to a scoreboard reading BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
On the right of the stands, being completely red, there was a roar of cheers and clapping. Remembering the veela Angela told me about, I was excited to see what they looked like. "I've heard they brought veela!"
"What are veel -?" Harry began to say, but stopped when he saw them glide out onto the field. Looking on, I saw that they were indeed very lovely creatures, with shimmery skin and bouncy, luxurious hair. Music began to play, and suddenly, the veela began to dance with grace that I'd never seen before.
It took everything to tear my eyes away as I looked to Hermione and Ginny, expecting looks of equal fascination. However, their eyes were trained disapprovingly on Harry and Ron, who were leaning forward looking utterly spellbound. The boys suddenly stood up, looking as if they were about to jump off into the stadium. Harry placed his foot on the wall, looking determined.
The music stopped suddenly, and Harry blinked back into reality, looking very dazed.
"Huh?" Ron said, looking equally confused. "Why'd they stop?"
"Oh, honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes and tugged Ron back into his seat. "Quit embarrassing yourself."
I pulled Harry back into his, restraining my laughter. "Sit down, you oaf."
Angry yells had begun to fill the stadium — apparently, the crowd hadn't wanted the veela to stop either. Ron was beginning to pull the shamrocks off of his hat, and Mr. Weasley pulled it from him, looking rather amused himself.
"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."
"And now," Ludo Bagman began to speak again, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!"
I watched, fascinated, as a great blur of green and gold flew into the stadium. It circled around once before splitting in half, each flying toward opposite ends of the field. A rainbow connected both balls of light, creating a spectacular sight. The rainbow faded, and the two clumps reunited once more and morphed into an enormous shamrock. It soared over the stands, from it falling showers of gold coins. Upon closer examination, I could see that the cloud was made up of thousands of tiny men in vests, each holding a lantern of either green or gold. Leprechauns, of course.
Eventually, the shamrock dispersed and the leprechauns drifted to the side of the field opposite the veela.
"Finally, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!" Ludo cried. I took out my Omnioculars for the first time as Ludo announced each of the players one by one, ending in a loud," Aaaaaaand — Krum!"
"That's him, that's him!" Ron yelled.
I'd been given a hurried rundown on Viktor Krum by Ron after he bought his figurine, but nothing compared to the real thing. He was moving too fast for me to get a good look at him, but his eyes could only be described as intense. He was lean like Harry, but muscular and rugged.
"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" Bagman yelled. "Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!"
The Irish players, clad in green, flew in similarly to the Bulgarians.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
A short, bald wizard in gold robes strode into the field. From beneath his bushy mustache was a silver whistle. He mounted his broomstick and kicked open the crate beside him; all four balls flew into the air. Mostafa blew his whistle and kicked off as well.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" Bagman shouted. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
The Chasers were passing and intercepting the Quaffle so quickly that I had to slow it down. I'd never seen Quidditch played like this before. Pressing the play-by-play button, I could see glittering purple letters explain to me what each of their moves was called. The Irish moved so smoothly that it was almost as if they could read each other's minds, yet Bulgaria's defense was like an iron wall. I decided to turn the knob back to normal, since I didn't want to be behind. It was no sooner than I did this, however, that I saw Troy from Ireland toss the Quaffle with ferocity through the hoop.
"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium cheered and applauded. "Ten zero to Ireland!"
"What?" Harry asked, looking up from his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"
"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" Hermione shouted, dancing around as Troy did a lap of honor. The leprechauns formed a shamrock again on the side. The game continued, and within the next ten minutes Ireland had scored twice more. Their teamwork was impeccable. Bulgaria's Beaters were beginning to pummel the Bludgers at the Irish Chasers, stopping them from using some of their tactics. Ivanova eventually scored Bulgaria's first goal. The veela began to dance again, and Harry and Mr. Weasley put their fingers in their ears in hopes of keeping their mind on the game.
"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova — oh I say!" Bagman suddenly roared. I watched as Krum and Lynch hurtled toward the ground so quickly it was as if they were just falling.
However, at the very last second, Krum pulled out of the dive, while Lynch hit the ground at full force with a thud. A groan rose from the Irish side of the stadium. I watched as Krum rose once more and began to look for the Snitch again.
"Fool!" Mr. Weasley groaned. "Krum was feinting!"
"Awfully clever of Krum though," I said, fascinated. Ron was right — Krum truly was excellent. "You'd better try that," I told Harry. "I bet you could pull it off."
Harry grinned. "I'll make sure to."
"Time out!" Bagman yelled. "As trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"
After a moment, Lynch got to his feet again, mounted his broom, and kicked back off once more. This seemed to reinvigorate Ireland, as after another fifteen minutes they pulled ahead by ten more goals. The score was one hundred and thirty points to ten. The game had begun to get dirtier — the Bulgarian Keeper had fouled Mullet, one of the Irish Chasers, and the leprechauns began to taunt the veela on the field while Ireland took the penalty. In retaliation, the veela began to dance again. Looking over toward the referee, I watched with amusement as he begun to flex his muscles and twiddle his mustache.
"Now, we can't have that!" Ludo Bagman was refraining from laughing. "Somebody, slap the ref!"
A mediwizard ran across the field and booted Mostafa mercilessly in the shin. Mostafa snapped out of it and seemed to be very embarrassed — he began to shout at the veela and point to the stadium door.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" Bagman said. "Now there's something we haven't seen before. . . Oh this could turn nasty . . ."
The Bulgarian Beaters landed and began to yell at Mostafa, who was yelling back at them and pointing upwards, telling them to go back into the air.
"Two penalties for Ireland!" Bagman shouted. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms. . . yes. . . there they go. . . and Troy takes the Quaffle. . ."
One of the Bulgarian Chasers flew directly in front of Moran, who had the Quaffle afterward. This caused Moran's broom to catch his and she did a few flips in the air before she could straighten her broom out.
"Foul!" Cried the Irish stands.
"Foul!" Bagman repeated. "Dimitrov skins Moran — deliberately flying to collide there — and it's got to be another penalty — yes, there's the whistle!"
The leprechauns rose once again — this time forming a very distinct middle finger at the veela. This pushed them over the edge, and I was reminded of what Angela had told me about them as their beautiful faces grew into harsh beaks, and scaly wings protruded from their shoulders. They also began to throw fire at the leprechauns.
"And that, boys," said Mr. Weasley, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"
War raged both on and above the field. Ministry wizards began to unsuccessfully attempt to separate the leprechauns and the veela while above the Quaffle was being passed back and forth with lightning speed.
"Levski — Dimitrov — Moran — Troy — Mullet — Ivanova — Moran again — Moran — MORAN SCORES!"
I watched as the Irish Beater swung a Bludger aggressively toward Viktor Krum, who hadn't ducked quickly enough. It hit him square in the face and I winced. His nose was almost definitely broken.
"Come on," said Ron, "he can't play like that!"
"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled suddenly. "He's seen the Snitch! He's seen it! Look at him go!"
Lynch was almost perpendicular to the ground in a dive, but Krum was on his tail. Blood was flying everywhere from his nose, and yet he pursued Lynch with incredible speed.
"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked.
"They're not!" Ron replied.
"Lynch is!" Harry yelled.
"But Krum! Look at Krum!" I shouted excitedly.
As Lynch hit the ground with full force for the second time, Krum pulled swiftly out of the dive, his fist raised high in the air.
"He's got it! Krum's got it! It's all over!" Harry shouted excitedly.
The scoreboard read BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND, 170.
The crowd seemed to catch up, and like a great wave, the Irish supporters stood and cheered louder than ever.
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, surprised. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron exclaimed, even as he cheered with the rest of us. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred sixty points ahead, the idiot!"
"He knew they would never catch up!" Harry replied. "The Irish Chasers were too good . . . He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all."
"He just wanted to win with dignity," I said in awe, watching him fly back to the field, nose still bleeding. "And what an incredible catch!"
"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward. "He looks a terrible mess. . ."
On the field, Krum denied all of the mediwizards who were trying to fix him up. The rest of his team looked very dejected, while the Irish were dancing gleefully with their mascots showering gold on them.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman roared.
The Top Box was suddenly filled with blinding light, so everyone could see inside. Two wizards carried a large golden cup into the box, handing it to Cornelius Fudge.
"Let's have a loud hand for the gallant losers — Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted. He called each of their names and they filed in between the rows one at a time to shake hands with the Bulgarian minister as well as Fudge. Krum, who was cheered for especially loudly, had two black eyes blossoming on his face which was still red with blood. He still held the Snitch in his hand, the muscles of his arms visible through his tight Quidditch robes. He had a slit from a scar in his left eyebrow. Up close, he was roguishly handsome, and something that felt dangerously like attraction stirred in my chest.
"Pick your jaw up off the floor, your boyfriend is right there," Ginny muttered to me, snapping me out of it. I promptly flicked her in the forehand.
"Draco is not my boyfriend," I hissed at her, and he wasn't watching me anyway. In my defense, he was also too busy gawking at Krum.
The Irish team was then announced, and they followed in the same manner. They were handed the Cup, which they lifted into the air with excited grins. After they performed one last lap of honor, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "quietus."
"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said, his voice hoarse, "a really unexpected twist, that . . . shame it couldn't have lasted longer. . . Ah yes. . . yes, I owe you. . . how much?"
Fred and George had rushed up to him with gleeful expressions on their faces, their hands stretched out in front of them.
Once we'd reached the campsite again, we all piled into the boy's tent with high spirits and hot chocolate. Harry and Ron had talked excitedly about Viktor Krum, a conversation I was suddenly happy to join in on. Ginny and Hermione must have gotten bored, because then they started ragging on me about Draco, demanding to know what we'd sneaked away to do. I told them the truth, but they kept insisting that we'd kissed behind the Ireland tents, and other even more fanatical stories.
"What would he think if he heard you yammer on about Viktor Krum?" Ginny teased. She was probably just happy to have some material for me, since Hermione and I had teased her relentlessly about her crush on Harry.
"He'd understand," I said with faux-seriousness, with a pointed look at Harry. "He has a thing for Seekers."
"The day Malfoy has a crush on me is the day I pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower," Harry went bright red, and would not talk about the subject any further. Eventually, we all got tired. Ginny fell asleep on the table and spilled her hot chocolate everywhere, so we bid the boys goodnight and carried her back to our tent.
Ginny and Hermione had fallen fast asleep long before me. I laid awake for an hour or so just staring up at the ceiling and getting lost in my thoughts, the cheering and singing outside fading into the background. I wondered just how late Ireland was planning on celebrating, they'd been rather loud for a while now.
I considered going for a walk — the idea of sleep seemed far-fetched, and I worried about nightmares. I knew Dean and Seamus could easily help me stay awake with their excitement and stories of their shenanigans, but I didn't want to leave everybody without notice. My mind bounced between reliving the World Cup, wondering where Draco was and what he was doing, and my strange dreams.
Unable to shake away my perseverant thoughts, I abandoned the notion of sleep entirely. Climbing silently out of bed, I slipped my shoes on by the door and crawled out in my pajamas. I made sure to bring my wand with me. Looking back, I was satisfied to see Ginny and Hermione still asleep.
Sneaking behind the tents so as not to get caught in the crowd, I made my leisurely way in the direction of Ireland's tents. The cheers and singing grew nearer as I walked by the edge of the forest. I could see the green hilltop tents drawing closer and closer. I doubted Seamus or Dean had any intention of going to sleep until far past four in the morning. I smiled to myself, looking forward to a night of celebration, until I heard a trembling voice nearby.
"P-please — d-don't hurt m-me!"
I froze in my tracks. The voice belonged to a little girl. I crept toward the source of the voice, careful to stay quiet.
"Got you, little mouse!" The scratchy voice of a man growled. "You thought you could run away, did you? Made us chase you all this way."
"S-stop! Don't c-ome any closer!"
"Too bad it was all for nothing. We've got you now." A smoother man's voice replied, laughing. Both men sounded like they were fairly intoxicated.
My heart was racing. What was going on? The ground was too risky, so I climbed the nearest tree. The wind was blowing already and any sound I made would be masked by the rustling of the leaves. Cursing the lack of pockets in women's clothing, I moved my wand into my bra to free up my hands.
"W-what did you do t-to m-my family?" The girl asked, her voice still shaking.
"Oh, you'll see," said the man with the scratchy voice. "You'll be up there with them soon, filthy Muggle."
I froze on a sturdy branch. Below me I saw two masked, cloaked wizards standing in front of a young girl. She sat on the ground, looking up at the men, terrified. She must be related to Mr. Roberts, the Muggle who had let us into the campsite.
What had they done to her family? My grip tightened on the branch. I couldn't just sit here and let them hurt her!
I couldn't aim a single spell at both of them, and even if I hit one she would have seen the light and the other would become aware of my presence. Looking around carefully at my surroundings, an idea formed in my head. I removed my wand.
Aiming carefully at the bough above the two men, I muttered, "diffindo!" and made a slicing motion. I watched as the large bough fell directly onto them. Heart racing, I watched them fall to the forest floor with surprised grunts as the bough rolled onto their chests, pinning them down. I'd also luckily knocked them unconscious.
The girl looked around wildly, clearly confused. Satisfied that she hadn't seen me, I quickly climbed back down the tree, running towards her. She looked at me fearfully once she saw me coming, strands of hair coming out of her dark ponytail. Tears had been streaming down her face.
"I'm not here to hurt you, I promise," I said quickly. "Take my hand. I'm going to bring you somewhere safe."
The girl sniffled, still looking wary. I held my hand out to her gently, and she eventually took it. Though my heart was racing as well, I tried to look calm and collected for her.
"Let's go, and quickly — I don't want to be here when they wake up."